Please Don't Leave Me Again
by nothinghappenstome
Summary: Sherlock is chasing Moriarty. But instead of going for three years, he keeps coming and going at months at a time, without telling John when and where he's going.  Reichenbach theme I guess


Prompt:  
>Sherlock is chasing Moriarty. But instead of going for three years, he keeps coming and going at months at a time, without telling John when and where he's going. (Reichenbach theme I guess) <em>I haven't written something like this before, so sorry if it isn't great : _

* * *

><p>"Sherlock, you run away, and then you run back. You say you love me, we have sex and then you run off again, leaving me waiting for months. Why can't I come with you?" John paced the room whilst he threw the occasional glare at Sherlock, as he waited for an answer.<br>"I'm sorry. It's for your own safety. Just one more time, and then I can stay here or leave. Your choice." Sherlock looked at John, with pain in his eyes.  
>"Promise? It's been two years since you started doing this... And I have no idea why I haven't told you to piss out of my life yet. But if you're going to go, leave now then promise me you'll come back. You're looking so skinny..." John sat next to Sherlock, and Sherlock searched in his pocket for something, a little blue box.<p>

From the box, Sherlock took out a ring, attached to a chain, with his and John's names engraved inside with the message: "I love you always, no matter how far apart."  
>He slipped the chain around John's neck and tucked the ring inside the shirt he was wearing.<br>"I promise that when I return, you will be safe once more. And when I return, I will marry you. If that is what you want." Sherlock looked down from John's gaze, and a tear rolls down his cheek. John gently lifts Sherlock's head and kissed Sherlock and wiped away his tear.  
>"For some crazy reason, I'll wait for you detective. I love you too." John pressed their lips together once more, tears flowing from both their eyes.<br>"How much longer until you have to leave?" John whispered to Sherlock, pressing their foreheads together.

"I'll be gone when you wake." John smiled slightly.  
>"Well I can think of something that will pass the time." Sherlock picked John up in his arms and carried him to their bedroom, shutting the door behind him.<p>

John was woken from his slumber; Sherlock was quickly pulling on his clothes. John rubbed the sleep from his eyes and checked the time. 2:37am flashed at him, he ran his hands through his hair and pulled up the blanket, all that John was wearing was the chain with the ring.  
>"Sherlock, please don't leave again. Whatever it is, I'm sure we can solve it together, no?"<br>Sherlock looked on the verge of tears once more.  
>"It's for your own safety. I'm sorry." He gently pressed his lips to John's forehead. "I love you, and you're beautiful."<br>John pulled Sherlock in for a kiss by the nape of his neck.  
>"When will you be back? You said this will be the last time you will go."<br>"I... A month. Six months. I don't know, I'm sorry. I have to go, I love you." And with that, Sherlock left a long and lingering kiss on John's lips before gently closing the door.

* * *

><p>Six months on, and John has just woken from a nightmare, breathless and covered in his own sweat. He dragged himself out of their bed, and went to the office, John's bedroom converted into the "experimentation and case notes room". He sat down in Sherlock's armchair, breathing in the remains of Sherlock's scent, calming himself after a nightmare of Afghanistan. He slowly got up, walked down the stairs to the lounge and pulled out his laptop, bringing up his blog page.<p>

Blink blink blink...  
>The cursor flashed at him.<br>"I miss you Sherlock." He deleted that letter by letter. John sighed, walked back to their bedroom and pulled on a t-shirt and loose trousers. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and fiddled with the ring around his neck, he hadn't removed it since the night Sherlock came home, the last time John had seen him.

John stood, and his leg couldn't hold his weight and he fell to the floor.  
>"Fuck's sake!" John leant heavily against the wall as he limped into the living room, and searched for the dreaded cane. He reached for his laptop, and posted an entry, fully aware of what he was writing.<br>"My life is dull enough for my limp to return." He posted the entry, and sat still in the armchair, letting the laptop fall out of his grip as he drifted back to sleep.

* * *

><p>Another six months on, and John was punching the wall.<br>"Fucking hell Sherlock. It's like you've disappeared, Mycroft has even stopped calling. I hate you for leaving me. I HATE YOU." And with a final punch, John slides down the wall, cradled his bleeding knuckles up to his chest as he started to cry. When the tears turned to sobs, and the heart wrenching sobs had faded, he slowly stood, leaning heavily on his cane as he limped to the bathroom to clean up his bloodied knuckles.

Later that evening, John searched the flat for a needle. He knew Sherlock still had a needle somewhere, if only he could find it. He clumsily climbed the stairs to the office, which hadn't been opened for months. As John slowly opened the door, he again started his search for a needle. A thin layer of dust sat on top of everything, and as he slid his hands under the desk, he found a small box. He pulled out the needle, and slowly cleaned it, before filling it with a high dose of sleeping drugs, not that John cared if he overdosed. Sherlock had left; it had been a year and no contact.

John tied a tourniquet round his arm, bringing up his vein. He sat down in his armchair in the office, his hands shaking slightly as he held the needle to his vein. He pressed the needle into his skin, breaking the surface, pushing the needle deeper. It had been a while since he'd had a needle under his skin. John slowly pressed down on the plunger, feeling the thick liquid slowly flow into his veins.

A few minutes later, and his limbs feel so heavy, his head too heavy to hold upright. John let his body relax fully into the chair, the needle loose in his fingers as his the corners of his vision start to turn black. John whispered to the dust covered room and to the darkness in and outside the flat. "Sherlock Holmes, I love you. N-never... Never h-ha-hate..." His words slurred, and full of sleep. John lets his eyelids slowly shut, too heavy and hard to keep open. A few minutes later, and John is a limp body in a chair, in a deep drug induced sleep, still and growing colder as the hours pass.

* * *

><p>Sherlock stumbled up the stairs to their flat, weak and tired. He had bags under his eyes, and was thin, thinner than he'd ever been before. But he didn't care, finally, after a long year Moriarty was dead. Sherlock and Mycroft had been tracking him, and finally they managed to kill him. A simple shot through the head completed the job. Sherlock smiled slightly, at the fact he could finally live with John in safety and peace.<p>

"John, John I'm back. John?" Sherlock checked the living room and kitchen. "Strange, John should be up. It's gone 9am, and the curtains haven't been opened." Sherlock thought to himself, just as he spotted the pile of books that had been moved for John to find his cane. Sherlock checked begin the pile; no cane.  
>"Oh John... I'm sorry..." Sherlock moved quickly to the bedroom, to find no John, and a bed that hadn't been slept in. A line of light caught his attention from the corner of his eye; the office door was open, the morning light pouring onto the stairs. Sherlock bounded the stairs, two at a time.<br>"John, John I'm so sorry for making you wait so long. I promise I can expla-" His words stopped dead in his throat. John was slumped over in his armchair, the tourniquet still round his arm and a needle lying at his feet. Sherlock ran to his side, checked his pulse, flinching at just how cold John was.  
>"Shit you're so cold. And still. You still have a steady pulse, thank god. Oh John I'm sorry I caused this..." Sherlock untied the tourniquet, and gently picked John up, taking his to their bedroom. Sherlock gently placed John down on the bed; fear was the only thing keeping him awake now. He kicked off his shoes, and quickly changed into loose pyjamas before lying next to John, pulling him close and trying to warm John with his own body heat, silent tears running down his cheeks as Sherlock realised it was him that did this to John, all him. He entwined their fingers, and he felt all the scabs on John's knuckles, from the amount of times John had punched something.<p>

"Oh John... I'm so sorry. Once you wake, I promise I will do whatever you want." Sherlock started to shake from sobs he didn't want to be heard. Finally, Sherlock fell asleep, as was awoken a few hours later by John stirring, finally from his deep slumber.

Sherlock sat back slightly, but John's hands wrapped around Sherlock's top and he pulled him close again. John breathed deep, before he whispered without opening his eyes.

"Sherlock, I-is that you?" John's voice was husky from sleep.  
>"Yes. Oh John, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you; I never meant to be gone so long. I'm so sorry, if you want me to leave now, I will and I won't come back. I'm so sorry." Sherlock let another tear fall and John opened his eyes to look at Sherlock, and he slowly moved his hands to grip Sherlock's curly black hair.<br>"It's you... It's really you." He pulled Sherlock in for a kiss, as Sherlock let another tear fall.  
>"John, I'm sorry." John frowned.<br>"Yes, I am angry. You never contacted me once to tell me you're ok. But you're back now... You came back eventually. And you said it was your last time you were going away." John pressed his fingers to Sherlock's lips, to stop him from speaking.  
>"I became weak, my psychosomatic limp returned after six months, and so did the tremor. I thought you weren't coming back, so I took too high a dosage of sleeping drugs. But you're back..." John pressed his ear to Sherlock's heart, hearing it beat.<br>"And you're alive. Even if you do look dreadful and skinny. But you're alive." John kissed Sherlock again, stroking his cheekbones and sliding his other hand up and down his chest.  
>"You don't want me to go?" Sherlock whispered.<br>"No, I want you to stay right here." John reached inside his shirt and pressed the ring into Sherlock's hand.  
>"Still on. I haven't taken it off since the day you gave it to me."<br>"I love you. And do you remember the promise I made you?"  
>"I love you too. And I believe it was something about a wedding?" John smiled and kissed Sherlock again, a long loving and passionate kiss.<p>

It was a while before either of them spoke again.  
>"John, you're safe now. Moriarty... He's gone. Dead. I killed him." John looked up, slightly shocked.<br>"That's what you were doing? For three years? Trying to find him and kill him?"  
>"Yes, John. So he couldn't find you. You're safe." Sherlock looked down, and John just kissed him again.<br>"We're safe." John corrected Sherlock.  
>"You're not angry anymore." It was a statement, not a question.<br>"I... Slightly. But maybe you can change that. I haven't had make out session or sex for a year." He winks at Sherlock, and Sherlock pressed their lips together once more, slipping his tongue into John's mouth, slipping his hands behind John's head and into his soft hair.

* * *

><p><em>Hope you enjoyed it, and like I said, I haven't written this type of fic before. Please review, Olivia xx<em>


End file.
